


You Can be the Moon (and Still be Jealous of the Stars)

by rosewiththorns



Series: A Star is Born [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Becoming a Star, Binary Stars, Chemical Bonds, Craving Attention, Detroit Red Wings, Discipline, Gen, Hockey Prank, Jealousy, Kneeling, Kneeling Universe, Linemates, M/M, Mind Reading, Non-Sexual Submission, Spanking, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett teaches Pavel not to be jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can be the Moon (and Still be Jealous of the Stars)

**Author's Note:**

> Like the rest of the series, this story (the third one) takes place during the 2003-2004 season.

“You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars.”—Gary Allan

You Can be the Moon (and Still be Jealous of the Stars) 

“You put itching powder in my jock.” Brett glared at the top of Pavel’s dark head, which was bent forward as he knelt before Brett, cold and motionless as an ice sculpture. That’s what Shanny—laughing hard enough to rupture both lungs—had told him only after the itching power had started to take effect, causing Brett to long to scratch his balls like a dog desperate to tear at that one out-of-reach itch. Apparently being a snitch only after the itching powder kicked into high gear, thus endearing himself to neither prankster nor victim, was just another strategy in Shanny’s ongoing campaign to guarantee that he was never an overwhelmingly popular guy in the locker room. “A little bird chirped that in my ear.” 

“A Shanny bird.” With Pavel crunched in on himself like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Brett couldn’t see his features, but he interpreted this statement as an indication that Pavel was guilty as charged. 

As a very sensitive organ throbbed inside his jeans, Brett could feel his anger spiraling around him as if it were a tornado. “You don’t even deny it, Pav,” he snapped. 

“Was joke.” If there wasn’t a smirk on Pavel’s face—impossible to discern when it was fixed on the floor as though to study every grain in the wood—there was definitely one in his tone. 

“You wouldn’t say it was a joke if it was your balls that felt like they had chicken pox.” Brett scowled and gave Pavel’s shoulders a series of shakes he half-hoped were severe enough to register on the Richter scale. “Don’t try to force-feed me that bullshit, kid, because I’m not swallowing a bite of it. Now, tell me the real reason why you put itching powder in my jock, since I know even you with your sick sense of humor wouldn’t pull that as a good-natured prank.” 

“If you not know, I not tell you, Brett.” When he finally glanced up at Brett, Pavel’s eyes were derisive daggers. 

“You want me to read your mind?” Brett arched an eyebrow, even though he already had his suspicions about what was troubling Pavel, because he wanted Pavel to experience the therapy of articulating what was bothering him on somewhat of his own initiative. 

“Used to be able to before—“ Pavel’s voice trailed off but Brett completed the thought anyway. Before Scotty had left and been replaced—rather inadequately—by Dave Lewis. Before Igor and Sergei had gone with the wind too. Before Zetterberg had arrived to steal some of Brett’s attention and affection. The ’02 season that was the before—the idyll and the Eden—that they all returned to in their dreams because they were all exiles who could never live in it again. 

“Before what?” Brett prodded, trying to push Pavel into admitting the ugly truth. 

“Nothing.” Pavel’s chin lifted mutinously. 

“You’re being stubborn.” Brett grabbed Pavel’s elbows in case he needed to tug a certain rebel over his knee. He hadn’t spanked Pavel since that first night Pavel had knelt for him during training camp, but Pavel was starting to act in a rotten manner that suggested he was overdue for one. “Remember what happened last time you got stubborn with me, huh?” 

“Yes, Brett.” Pavel nodded, cheeks ablaze with either fury or humiliation. 

“Then explain to me what demon possessed you to pour itching powder into my jockstrap.” Brett jerked Pavel’s elbows to emphasize just how grave this breach in conduct was. 

“No.” Pavel had barely finished shaking his head before Brett yanked him over his knee and pulled his sweatpants down to circle his kicking kneecaps. 

“No?” Brett’s suddenly light question was a harsh contrast to the heavy hand hammering away at Pavel’s bottom. “I’ll share my theory then, shall I?” 

“Let me up,” panted Pavel, twisting about like a dying fish struggling to flip out of its bowl to truly breathe before its life was snuffed out for eternity. 

“Not until I’ve said my piece, kid.” Grimly, Brett pressed down on Pavel’s back with the palm that wasn’t preoccupied with punishing his rear, locking Pavel in place for the duration of the spanking. “You had your chance to speak, and you didn’t seize it, so now you can just listen while I do all the talking.” 

When Pavel prudently made no reply to this assertion, Brett continued as he ignited a fire in Pavel’s ass to match the one the itching powder had produced in Brett’s privates, “Want to hear my idea, Pav? I think you got a little jealous because you felt as if I was paying too much attention to Hank and not enough to you. Well, you’ve got all my attention now. Hope you’re enjoying it.” 

“Not jealous,” protested Pavel in a pained hiss. “Not want your attention either, Brett.” 

Tucking his fingers under the elastic of Pavel’s underwear, Brett warned, “This is coming down if you lie or argue with me again.” 

“Not lying.” Pavel’s words were ground like coffee beans. “Not arguing.” 

“Lying and arguing again in one fell swoop, huh?” Tutting an admonishment, Brett made good on his threat and slid Pavel’s underwear down to rest just above his sweatpants, revealing a rump marked by ombre handprints where Brett had left a particularly strong impression. Focusing searing swats on the paler swaths of the naked butt below him, Brett added, “Don’t open your mouth again until you can tell the truth, kid.” 

For what seemed like an eon but was probably only a minute or two, the lone sounds in Brett’s hotel room were his hand striking Pavel’s reddening flesh and Pavel’s gasps shifting into soft cries. 

“I sorry.” Crumbling faster than a knocked-over set of dominoes, Pavel buried his face in his arms to stifle his mounting sobs, as Brett reduced the strength of the slaps. “You right. I wrong. I mad because you paying more attention to Hank than me, and I afraid—“ 

“Afraid of what?” Brett prompted gently when Pavel’s words got lost down a bunny trail, massaging the nape of Pavel’s neck. 

“Afraid I not matter to you anymore.” Pavel’s whisper was muffled even further by the arms he had burrowed himself into like a baby curling under a fleece blanket. “Couldn’t lose you like Igor and Sergei.” 

“You’ll always matter to me, Pav, and if you’re mad at me about something, speak up about it, but don’t put itching powder in my jock, because that’s just rude any way you slice it.” To ensure that Pavel had understood these two crucial concepts, Brett accompanied this declaration with a final, fierce flurry of spanks. “Got it?” 

When Pavel offered a miserable nod, Brett pulled Pavel’s sweatpants and underwear into place, eliciting faint whimpers from Pavel as the fabric traveled across the scorched terrain of his backside. 

“That’s over, kid.” Brett rubbed soothing ovals around Pavel’s shoulders and lower back for a moment before Pavel drifted off his lap to kneel on the floor again. 

“You still like me, Brett?” With a tear-splotched expression, Pavel stared up at Brett. 

“Of course.” Tenderly, Brett brushed the saltwater off Pavel’s damp, flushed cheeks. “You’re my favorite line mate ever. I’ll like you forever even if you put itching powder in my jock every day.” 

“Thought you got new favorite.” His forehead furrowed, Pavel chomped on his lower lip. “Hank. He better than me.” 

Brett sucked in what felt like half the oxygen in Earth’s atmosphere. Most of the time, it was endearing how humble Pavel could be because he was oblivious to his great potential, but it could be irksome when his insecurities ate away at him, as if his doubts were determined to destroy him when nobody else could. 

“Hank’s not better than you,” Brett corrected sternly, tapping Pavel on the nose in affection and reproach. “He’s different than you—better than you at some things and worse than you at others. But you have the advantage, Pav, because you can learn the things he’s good at, and he can’t learn the stuff you’re a master at, since I don’t believe anyone can.” 

“Just dangles.” Pavel gave a dismissive shrug. “That’s all I good for, and Hank is beast on both sides of the puck, Brett.” 

Although he was aware that the rivalry between Hank and Pavel was a friendly one—akin to a pair of puppies always playfully fighting over the same bone—Brett cupped Pavel’s chin and tilted the jaw upward, so that their eyes locked on each other. “Don’t be jealous of Hank, because you aren’t meant to be. You’re meant to have a special bond with him. It’s one of those rare instances where fate or whatever the hell governs this bizarre universe decided to bring someone into your life to help you grow into the best self that in your nobler moments you actually wish to be, if you aren’t too proud to let them and help them in return. You have that chemistry between you where you can read one another’s minds even if that freaks you out so you try to fake that you just understand a secret language of nods and winks only the two of you are fluent in. Chemistry exists even if you deny it, kid, but that’s really stupid to do, since bonds like that don’t appear often. In all my hockey years, I only had bonds like that with Oates, Gretzky, and you.” 

“I didn’t ask to be bonded with Hank.” Pavel sounded weary to the marrow. “Bond with you take enough of my energy.” 

“You’re seeing the stars but not the light.” Tracing the shell of Pavel’s ear, Brett said quietly, “Think of it this way, Pav. You and Hank are binary stars, sharing an orbit and making each other shine brighter by proximity.” 

“Hank and I dance forever in the heavens.” Pavel’s eyes beamed like twin suns. “Nice idea as long as dance not stuffy and no fun like waltz. Got to be neat but creative like ballet.”


End file.
